Good morning my corn tortillas of ambition, waiting to be filled with the ground beef of knowledge, the spicy guacamole of wisdom, the shredded cheddar of good judgement, and the iceberg lettuce of compassion.
I have gathered ye all here today to hold me accountable. I am on the path to becoming America’s Next Top Above-Average Chef and although I will most likely never check in again on my cooking ability progress, I hope you will join me in sending the Good Vibes of Justice to whatever benevolent god grants cooking abilities to slightly lazy young women.
I have the Tools of Kitchen Utility: an instant pot, an oven, lots of mismatched utensils, measuring cups and spoons, a vegetable chopper that doth not fucking work and is on my laste nerve, and a magic bullet.
It is with these tools and the ingredients readily available at Trader Joe’s that I will craft the easiest and yet shockingly yummy meals that have graced this planet.
Haters, my good people, will say it’s fake but my cooking progress hit an upward spike this year starting at around summer. By summer 2021, I may be ready for one Michelin star. Only time will tell.
I am making the entire Thanksgiving meal this week and I can smell the fear on my family’s skin.
FEAR NOT, FAMILY. FOR I AM CONFIDENT IN A 70% EDIBLE MEAL.
We’ll see how it goes, xoxo gobble girl (yikes).
Prattle Peach 